"ANYTHING IS HARD TO FIND"

UPDATE: Check out the love I got in this Emerging Writers' Network post!

I had adventures around town today. Eh, this and that. You know how it is. I ended up talking about my book today to three men I didn't expect to discuss it with. Which was a nice surprise. I had a nice lunch today, too, post morning adventures and played with an iPhone today, too. I kind of have tech-envy now. Well, for those of you elsewhere, Chicago is chilly. I did coat and glovies today, no lie. So, after my adventures this morning, and my lunch, and my playing with an iPhone, I got home, hit the post office, did groceries and made a nice, hearty pasta sauce, a good cup of apple spiced tea, and because my radiators are still as cold as ice, changed into my comfy warm clothes and my cat and I are cozied up on the couch, space heater on, and are geeking on the History Channel.

This is my favorite time of the year. And, it feels like it's off to a good start (this season, that is) by a long walk last night in the chilly weather and by last night's BoSox win. Am I a dork for welling-up over the World Series? There's just something about watching unbridled happiness and excitement that I just love. It's perfect.

Did I mention my apartment is chilly? Oh right. I did. Eh well.

Well, I owe you some boob-links. You know the drill. It's still October, still breast cancer awareness month, the blog is still pink, and, most importantly, still a big issue so click here to donate mammography to women in need, and, if you need to book a flight, consider booking on Delta, who is doing some interesting things to support breast cancer research.

"AS I LIVE AND BREATHE"

I'm writing from the coffeeshop, which I haven't done in a while. A dude is trying to read over my shoulder. Yes, you, you right there at the table behind me with your earbuds so loud I can hear your Daughtry CD and with that unforch loud mouth-breathing. You.

That's better. A little calling out never hurt.

I moved to the library. The coffeeshop had unforch music, the noisy dude behind me air-drumming and stomping and going bah-bah-BAH-bah it's not oooooovAH try to bah-bah-bah-BAH-BAH-BAH time around, then there was the convo to my right about a bladder infection, the shrieking kids, the dirtbag staring at every woman in the place (3 including me), and I'd forgotten my earbuds to block out noise, so I suddenly had a terribly feeling in my chest child, you aren't going to get shit done in here today.

So, I'm going to be in Madison tomorrow night, but not for a reading. I'll scope-out reading spots, to be sure, but I'm just going to chill. Imagine that, Amy Guth, chillin'. I got up this morning and stirred around a bit and wore myself out and got all winded again. Whodathunk a little poke in the lung would be so unforch?? Not I, that's for sure. I feel like such a wuss. Anyway, I'm not taking fitness attire or running shoes with me to Madison, so even if routine urge-to-move strikes, I have no choice but to chill.

"ACCEPT YOURSELF"

At about 4:30 am, I was having a dream that I was talking about my brother's recent travels in South America (fictional), and how I suspected he'd brought back a strange frog with him. As I was describing the dream, I heard the frog flapping around, so I turned off the lights and tried to find him, hoping to return the frog to my brother, nearly 1,000 miles away (not fictional). So I was in the dark, trying to find a frog (Dunno why I thought being n the dark would help my chances of finding the frog) and dreamed that he (the frog) suddenly started flopping around and jumping all over, so when I (not dream me, but actual me) thought something hit my chest, I woke up and jumped out of bed with a little scream. Kitty meowed and hopped onto the dresser, I flipped on the light and quickly realized, after shaking out all the covers in a dreamy-haze, there was no South American frog in my apartment.

I read a magazine for a bit until my heart rate returned to normal, then fell back asleep and started dreaming about trying to get crated artwork on a plane as a carry-on with a group of people.

Hi kids, how the effing eff are youse? So, I suppose I should catch you up:

Turns out, Needle-In-Chest/Lung is less pleasant than Needle-In-Boob. But, I'm okay. I'm always okay. I don't have breast cancer and I sho' don't have breast cancer that got over-ambitious and fashioned itself into lung cancer. I don't have anything. I'm good, great even, and I am over needles for the time being.

Speaking of boobage, check out what Goaty sent me: Right here. It's funny how this boob ordeal has changed my thinking a little about boobs. Stuff like this is really amazing to me all of a sudden, where it would have probably just been too-lame-to-think-about before. Now, I get this feeling... having played out scenarios in my head of being boobless, and brainstorming every think I possibly can to keep them just on and healthy, boob slings and implants and shit, outside of a reconstructive purpose, just really seems so extra weird to me, like listening to people speak a language I can't speak at all.

Anyway.

I got a lot done in the past week, most of which I'm proud of, and I have two fun new projects coming up you'll hear about in the next couple of days that I'm super-excited about. As for now, I'm caught up for the time being, so I'm going to sit and write on manuscripts and chill.

But!

I'm still looking to make my website, Guth-a-Go-Go, look like Alton Brown's website, and need a web dude or dudette to make that happen. I don't need anyone to maintain it, per se, just put the bones up and make it rad and I'll keep it updated. That much html I do know. Please, please email with rates and time frame and we'll work it out. So long as it doesn't involve whoring myself, I'd even be willing to work out a trade of some kind. Anything. I just need to get that website hoppin' with a quickness.

"ASSEMBLE THE WAYS"

Hey guys. I have no idea what to say to follow-up that last post.

The rest of my weekend was great. I'll just tell you about that.

Saturday, after I left the Dr., thrilled to bits that I didn't have fucking breast cancer, Leah was good enough to meet up with me, bearing orange juice and Wheat Thins, in case I was woozy. But, I felt okay. Or, the orange juice made me feel okay. Either way, I was solid. We leaned against a bank window for what felt like an hour and stared at passing traffic and didn't say anything for a long time. Then, we talked a little. Then, we walked, found a couple of doughnuts and strong coffees, talked a while about foreign currency we'd each forgotten to exchange, international adventures and life lessons that suck ass to have to learn.

I drove her to her hair salon, thanked her for meeting me (oh man, was I happy to see a familiar face right then) and headed home, tidied my apartment a little, then set out for a great adventure that eventually led me to Pitchfork, which was wicked awesome, low-key and I had such fun just hanging out, watching hipsters follow each other around and shout things like one more metaphor, randomly.


Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of folks in the crowd who knew how to rock smart and look cool at the same time.

Every single thing about Sunday was wonderful. Bliss, even! I slept really fucking late, I lounged, I thought about the day before, did this and that, ordered Thai, then went to meet Irish Ho and her mama at a softball game with a perfect view of the skyline. Loved her moms. Oh my, she was a riot. Perfect fun to end a perfect day.

As for today, work was the name of the game. Work, work, work. Ah, and I did find out that my way foxy BFF, Schwartzy, and I landed on a short list of potential VP running mates (though alas neither of us made the cut)... uh, but, don't overlook that yours truly is also the sidebar model of the week with tinfoil in my hair (super hot, I know) which you'd think would have counted for something and I found a really horribly hilarious fansite for Richie Sambora. And I bought a new sports bra. And talked to Mermaidhead. Not a bad day.

Anyway, I guess that's it. I guess we're caught up. A super thunderstorm is blowing in. I sleep like a mofo when it's thundery, so I'm going to hit the hay. Goodnight, my dears.

"STRETCH OUT AND WAIT"

I threw my back out, and I wasn't even doing anything sexy or heroic. That's, as the very cool kids say, rather unfortch. I'll be aiight, though. I just need to make myself sit still and rest. (Yeah, right, that's totally gonna happen.)

So, today, I was sitting in my car, rocking out to Iggy & The Stooges, taking in the sunshine, and a dude drove past me and shouted love ya marry me you rock owwwww! Then passed me a second time and tried to shout his number at me. No, I mean he did shout his number at me, but I, obviously, didn't take note of it. Ew.

Otherwise, I got nothin' tonight. I'm chillin' with my cat.

Happy Solstice, if that's your thing.

"FIVE SECONDS TO SPARE"

Going through an old steno pad, I found the following scribbles, by my own hand. No clue.

"Sharpei Marxist-- funny idea!"

"Bee shit, stupid stuff"

"autonomous grumbles"

"if I see another chariots of Fire spoof, I'll die"

"disco drummer character"

"cat food, rice, cat food, lotion, cat food, tampons, don't forget the fucking cat food"

"cell bill isn't going to pay itself, Guthie"

Anyway.

News still positive out of Louisiana about my grandfather. We, my peeps, are tougher than we probably should be. I like that quite a bit.

Three men have just walked into this coffee shop and called the barista "boss" when he is actually the newest hire.

I am in the midst of a funny activity that I will be shortly be writing about. People are so predictable, aren't we?

"SO YOU RUN DOWN TO THE SAFETY OF THE TOWN"

Hey guys. I'm getting loopy. I was awake way too late last night and I have a lot of shit to do tonight.



But. I had a great day. Sure, my mind is going in a million different directions, remembering every last detail of things I need to take care of or bring along to New Orleans tomorrow. But, there were a few hours today that I forgot all about that shit. A few hours that were calm and pleasant. A few hours of just being.

I'm about set to head out tomorrow. I want to clean a little because coming home to a clean house after being away is always worth the effort. That's all I got.

"STRANGEWAYS, HERE WE COME"

I feel really good today. The sun is shining, the air is warm, my cat has finally taken to is new, kosher, organic, not poisoned kitty food, I made a great cup of coffee this morning (I mean, really. A leisurely morning with a hot cup of strong, bitter Chicory coffee and a good crunchy bagel, a little radio and flipping through a magazine-- does it get better?), I'm wearing summer clothes, I'm getting my new window treatment up in my bedroom without any trouble (pausing to charge my drill battery), doing a little spring cleaning, and, well, there is just something about a nice homemade meal in the middle of the afternoon that just makes me glad. Something about taking time to check out and just relax and enjoy. It's good.

I turned on the television a bit ago to see the weather forecast for the week since I'm travelling, and stopped for a sec on the Jerry Falwell Global Warming: Debunked show. What a scream. It's so insane that it isn't even provoking, it's just, you know, ridiculous! I'm not even going to link to it. Hilar squared, as Schwartzeleh would say. In fact, click on through to this post she wrote about Jesus clowns. Speaking of Falwell. (Ahem.)